Reunion in Minas Tirith
by shirebound
Summary: Faramir and the hobbits reunite in Minas Tirith after Aragorn's crowning. An upbeat, lighthearted look at a very special reunion and some Faramirhobbit interactions in the following days. NO slash, sex, profanity, violence
1. Faramir

THANKS TO **TATHAR** for giving me the idea for this story!  
  
DISCLAIMER: Of course. The characters don't belong to me, I just get to think about them day and night.  
  
_________________________  
  
REUNION IN MINAS TIRITH  
  
Chapter 1  
  
  
  
"And the Halfling forth shall stand," someone quoted softly behind him. Frodo turned quickly at the sound of Faramir's voice. He left the edge of the parapet where he had been gazing East and ran to the Man who stood smiling at him.  
  
"Faramir, how wonderful," he laughed, taking Faramir's hand in his. "And look how you're dressed now!" Frodo gazed with wonder at the beautiful clothes and billowing robe of the Steward. "I was so proud of you at the crowning."  
  
"I was proud of you as well," Faramir said, taking in Frodo's joyous face, the silver circlet in his hair, the white, silken shirt. He looked past the hobbit and his eyes took on a faraway look. "Did I not say that perhaps someday we would sit by a wall in the sun, laughing at old grief, and telling each other tales?" He shook his head in wonder. "And so it has come to be." He looked down again at Frodo and could stand it no longer. Laughing delightedly, he picked the hobbit up and whirled him about with joy.  
  
Finally he put Frodo down, both laughing. "Frodo Baggins," he said softly, "However did you do it? Did you ever think this day would come?"  
  
"No," said Frodo with a smile, "But Sam did!"  
  
As if on cue, Sam dashed out on the balcony looking for Frodo. "Mr. Frodo, Gandalf wants to know if.... Captain Faramir!"  
  
With a wink to Frodo, Faramir quickly knelt and bowed his head before Sam.  
  
"Captain Faramir, whatever are you doing?" Sam gasped in horror.  
  
"Samwise," Faramir raised his head with a broad grin, "Your fame has preceded you. You showed your quality; the very highest!"  
  
"Sir," Sam said blushing, "I said that to *you*. You have no cause to be saying such things to me. We all did what we had to do, and that's that."  
  
"Come, sit," said Frodo, pulling Faramir to his feet and over to a low bench. "It is so good to be away from the crowds and everyone staring and pointing. Sam, does Gandalf want to know anything that he cannot hear later?"  
  
"Just some questions about the banquet, Mr. Frodo, and whether you want to say anything." Sam joined them on the bench. "Do you?"  
  
"Just that this is very uncomfortable," said Frodo, removing the circlet with a sigh of relief. "I don't know how Aragorn can wear that enormous crown for more than a few minutes. It's so heavy I almost dropped it before giving it to Gandalf."  
  
"Perhaps because he has waited to wear it all his life," said Faramir. "And perhaps because he knows the people wish to see their King wearing it." He smiled. "They also wish to see the brave Halflings who single- handedly stormed the Black Tower and cast the Lord of Darkness into the fire!"  
  
"Is *that* what we did?" Frodo shook his head in amusement. "I seem to remember things somewhat differently."  
  
"It matters not," said Faramir. "The tales will be told and the lays sung. What truly matters is that the Shadow has departed and that beyond hope you have both returned safely."  
  
"Without your aid, Faramir, and the provisions you gave us, I doubt we would have made it to the Mountain," Frodo said, remembering. "But without Sam...." Frodo's voice broke and he turned away for a moment.  
  
"Don't you believe him, sir," Sam said indignantly. "Mr. Frodo walked until he could only crawl. No one else could have done what he did."  
  
"I remember crawling, Sam," said Frodo softly. "And then I remember being carried."  
  
"I am honored to have been of service to you both," said Faramir.  
  
"I'm sorry we don't still have those beautiful staffs you made for us," said Frodo. "I fear mine is lost somewhere in the Tower of Minas Morgul. I don't know what the Orcs did with it after they questioned me and took.... everything." He sighed. "The Nazgûl were coming, we couldn't take much time to look around."  
  
"And mine broke when I smacked that Gollum good with it," said Sam regretfully. "But that giant spider would have been off with you, Mr. Frodo, if I hadn't been able to get away from him."  
  
"Perhaps it was good that we lost them, Sam," Frodo laughed. "When we marched with that company of Orcs you might have been tempted to smack a few of them as well! There were so many times when-----" Frodo looked up, concerned. "Faramir, are you all right?"  
  
Faramir was staring at them both, speechless.  
  
Frodo took his hand. "It has been a long day, Faramir. Perhaps you need to rest before the banquet?" He stood up. "Come, Sam, let's escort him to his room and settle things with Gandalf. Perhaps after all I *can* think of a few words to say tonight. After all, we knew the King when he was still a scruffy, wild Ranger who prowled about the Shire and..."  
  
Faramir let himself be led away by Sam and Frodo, his head spinning. The three of them went down the stairs and out to the courtyard, the hobbits talking gaily and seemingly oblivious to the cries of "Praise them!" and "Come and see the Pheriannath!" 


	2. Éowyn

Another chapter wanted to be written. What could I do? A little break from all the angst...  
  
DISCLAIMER: Of course. The characters don't belong to me, I just get to think about them day and night.  
  
_________________________  
  
REUNION IN MINAS TIRITH  
  
Chapter 2 --- Éowyn  
  
  
  
The next day Frodo received word that the Lady Éowyn wished to meet him at his convenience. He had seen her at the banquet the night before, but they had not had a chance to talk. After breakfast he made his way to the room in which she was staying.  
  
"Come in, Frodo," said Éowyn, turning from where she stood by the window.  
  
Frodo bowed deeply. "At your service, Lady."  
  
"I cannot imagine any service left for you to perform," Éowyn said with a smile, motioning for him to join her. She pulled two chairs next to each other and they both sat down. "It is we who are in your debt."  
  
"There is no debt between us," said Frodo. "You killed.... you killed that..." He swallowed hard.  
  
"Merry told me about it," said Éowyn softly. "The Lord of the Nazgûl wounded you grievously, and had continued to hunt you." She took Frodo's hands. "He is gone, Frodo. But if not for your cousin Merry things might have gone less well."  
  
Frodo drew her hands to his lips and kissed them. "Thank you, Lady."  
  
"And I thank you, Frodo. Please just call me Éowyn." She smiled at him. "Is Frodo really your name?"  
  
"Yes, La---- Éowyn. Frodo. Frodo Baggins." Frodo saw her confused look. "Is something wrong?"  
  
"Forgive me," said Éowyn. "After learning that Merry is actually Meriadoc and Pippin is also Peregrin, I just assumed..... We know very little about Pheriannath, Frodo. I assumed that you would have another name as well."  
  
"That is understandable," said Frodo. "Merry and Pippin are of the most important families in the Shire. Although I am related to them both, my family is rather a minor one." He smiled. "A fairly disreputable one, at that!"  
  
Éowyn laughed merrily. "We should get on well, then! I fear I have been the cause of much talk and embarrassment to my own family over the years!"  
  
"Perhaps you are both more than what you seem," said a soft voice from the door. Frodo and Éowyn looked up to see Faramir standing there, smiling at them. "Here I assumed you were trading stories of battle and courageous acts, while all along you are trying to outdo each other in poor reputation!"  
  
Faramir entered the room and pulled over another chair. He sat down, winking at Frodo. "What do you think of her, Frodo?"  
  
Éowyn blushed. "Lord Faramir...."  
  
"I have met no other maidens of the race of Men, Faramir," said Frodo matter-of-factly. "However, I cannot imagine there are others as lovely." He plucked an apple from a nearby bowl and crunched into it. "Or as brave." He grinned. "What do *you* think of her?"  
  
"Now really," said Éowyn, undecided whether to be angry or amused. "You speak of me as if I was not here in front of you. That is hardly chivalrous."  
  
Faramir ignored her. "That is the trouble, Frodo," he sighed. "All I do is think of her. I am unable to think of anything else." He took Éowyn's hand. "Unlike you two rascals, I am of a very fine family," he continued. "I will have to teach her how to behave."  
  
"And I will have to teach you manners," said Éowyn tartly. She tried to pull her hand back but Faramir would not let it go.  
  
"And gentleness," he murmured.  
  
Éowyn reached up and caressed his cheek with her free hand. "And love," she whispered.  
  
"I see your dilemma, Faramir," said Frodo. "How can you concentrate on anything else?"  
  
"What about food?" asked Pippin, suddenly appearing in the doorway. "Can she cook?"  
  
"No, Peregrin," Éowyn sighed.  
  
Faramir continued to gaze into her eyes. "In all of Minas Tirith's long history there have been no Halflings in the city." He chuckled. "Now suddenly they are everywhere."  
  
Frodo laughed and got up. "Come, Pippin, I think Gandalf is calling us."  
  
Pippin frowned as Frodo pushed him out of the room. "No he isn't."  
  
"Yes he is."  
  
"But----" Frodo simply turned Pippin back around so he could see Faramir and Éowyn, deep in a passionate kiss. "Oh." Frodo started to lead Pippin away.  
  
"No, Frodo, the stairs are *that* way. Come on, you're bound to get lost unless I'm with you. However did you find that fire mountain without me, anyway?"  
  
"I can't imagine. Hey, get your own apple."  
  
The hobbits' voices grew fainter as they disappeared down the corridor. "You know, Frodo, you may have started out as just another disreputable Baggins, but you've come a long way."  
  
"So have you, Pip. So have you." 


	3. The Library

This isn't exactly a coherent story, more like little peeks at Faramir/hobbit interactions during their stay in Minas Tirith. What fun! Glad you're enjoying it as well. Anything in particular you'd like to see, or have them discuss?  
  
DISCLAIMER: Of course. The characters don't belong to me, I just get to think about them day and night.  
  
_________________________  
  
REUNION IN MINAS TIRITH  
  
Chapter 3 --- The Library  
  
  
  
"What a mess!" exclaimed a pile of dusty parchments. Suddenly it sneezed.  
  
"Pippin, come away from there before you make *more* of a mess," sighed Merry.  
  
"Don't you order me about, Meriadoc. You are speaking to a knight of the City." Pippin turned to Frodo, who was turning over one parchment after another. "You need a title, Frodo. Too bad you haven't done much to earn one."  
  
"You're right, Pip," said Frodo with a smile. "Too bad Sam and I were so busy hiking and camping and making a nuisance of ourselves in Mordor that we didn't get to be of much service."  
  
Faramir shook his head in amusement. He was growing accustomed to the light, teasing manner of the hobbits. "It is indeed regretful that you have performed no service for the City, Frodo," he chuckled. "Else you, too, might be as honored as our esteemed Peregrin." He sighed, growing more serious. "Are you certain you do not wish it?"  
  
"Oh no," groaned Frodo. "Not that again. Please, no more titles, honors, or threats of knighthood." His eyes lit up suddenly. "You should knight Sam, Faramir! I suspect there is a lass back home who would----"  
  
"Mr. Frodo," Sam said, "I've already had enough ceremonies to last me a lifetime."  
  
"Sir Samwise," said Pippin, coming forward and bowing to Sam. "I give you my cousin Meriadoc as your loyal esquire."  
  
"Please, Sir Samwise," Merry fell to his knees before Sam. "Throw my cousin Peregrin into the dungeons until he shows me more respect!" He turned to Faramir. "You do have dungeons, do you not?"  
  
"Do you, Captain Faramir?" asked Sam hopefully.  
  
"I do not know that word, Sam," said Faramir, "although it does not sound like a kindly place. I doubt King Elessar would permit my 'throwing' any of you anywhere, unless it is over my knee. And I shudder to think what Mithrandir might do to me. He is strangely fond of the lot of you." Jesting in such a manner was beginning to come much more easily to him the longer these Halflings were about. So much so, he had begun to fear speaking thus at the wrong time, in front of the wrong people.  
  
"This is hopeless." Frodo was busy looking through a pile of scrolls. "We'll never find it, Faramir, we should have asked Gandalf where he---- oh." Suddenly Frodo's smile disappeared as he stared at something in front of him.  
  
Without a word, Sam, Pippin, and Merry grouped themselves around him, Faramir standing just behind them. Frodo gently ran his finger over the words on the scroll. Isildur's words. The evil lettering from the Ring. There it was.  
  
"This is it," Frodo whispered. "Isildur was holding the Ring in his hand when he wrote this. I can almost feel.. it's as if he's still..." He looked around. "I need to sit down." Sam immediately steered Frodo into a nearby chair.  
  
"Isildur's Bane," murmured Faramir. Abruptly he pushed the scroll away and knelt next to Frodo. "Do not let the ancient ones haunt you, Frodo." He motioned to the scroll. "That is all that is left of the Ring, and here it shall remain. Be at peace. There is nothing here that can harm you."  
  
Frodo took a deep breath and smiled. "Thank you, Faramir. I believe you are right."  
  
Faramir rose to his feet. "Come, my friends, let us leave here. It is way past lunchtime, I believe."  
  
Pippin looked up at the Man with a smile. "I think you're turning into a hobbit, Faramir. You're even starting to sound like one!"  
  
Faramir frowned. He *was* certainly jesting and eating more than usual. If these two Halflings could grow so tall, why couldn't a Man... "Peregrin, don't joke about----"  
  
"Check his feet, Pip," Merry grinned. "There could be all sorts of fur under those big boots!"  
  
"Meriadoc, I'm not finding this very amus----"  
  
"Don't worry, Faramir," said Frodo comfortingly. "Éowyn will still love you. She likes all of us a lot, I can tell."  
  
Faramir gave a deep sigh. "I must consult with the King. If Minas Tirith is without a proper 'dungeon' one will be built by morning. I will see to it." 


	4. True Love

Most grateful thanks to TATHAR (for the hundredth time) for giving me more ideas.  I love ideas!

It's so interesting to be writing a "lighthearted" tale and an "angsty" one ("Avalanche") at the same time.  I like keeping my muses on their toes!

DISCLAIMER:  Of course.  The characters don't belong to me, I just get to think about them day and night.

_________________________

REUNION IN MINAS TIRITH

Chapter 4 --- True Love

"She's gone, then?"

Faramir sighed, looking north.  It had been several hours since Éowyn had left and he still could not bear to leave the City gate.  How could he have fallen so deeply in love in such a short time?  He slid down the wall until he was sitting on the ground, surrounded by hobbits.  Sam rested a hand on his shoulder.

"You'll see her again soon, Faramir.  We all will."

"I know, Sam."  Faramir looked into his friend's bright face, optimism and strength shining out of him.  He could well see how such a companion could be the one person destined to walk with Frodo into the Shadow and return.  "Have you ever felt such…….. I mean, is there someone you………" Faramir sighed again.

Sam looked at his feet.  "Aye, there is, sir, although I doubt she knows it."

"If not, she's the only one who doesn't!" Frodo laughed.

"I just miss her already," said Faramir.  "I don't feel so alone when she's around."

"You have us!" Pippin smiled at him and scrunched down at the Man's feet.

"Hmmm."  Faramir reached down and tousled Pippin's hair, a gesture Pippin now tolerated from very few people.

"We know you're feeling alone, Faramir.  We're so sorry about your father," Frodo said.  "I've been an orphan for a long time; it's just the worst, isn't it?"

"Yes, Frodo, just the worst," said Faramir.  Pippin looked away; he never liked it when the conversation turned to Denethor.

"This is getting too gloomy," said Merry.  "Let's get back to Sam's problem, shall we?"

"What problem?" Faramir grinned, glad to be distracted.  "If this lass didn't love him already, which is hard to believe, Sam will return home famous and no doubt gifted richly for what he has done.  How could she resist him?"

Sam blushed.  "I hardly think----"

"Brave Baggins!" said Pippin suddenly.

"Ohhh," Frodo groaned.  "Not again."

Faramir chuckled.  "Are you still trying to find a title for him, Peregrin?"

"Yes," said Pippin.  "I mean, 'Frodo of the Nine Fingers' is pretty grim, and 'Ring-bearer' isn't exactly accurate anymore, and-----"

"Faramir," asked Frodo, "Did you ever get that dungeon built?"

"Frodo the Ferocious," said Merry.

Frodo sighed.  "At least my loyal Sam, my dearest friend, isn't trying to come up with any----"

"Defeater of the Darkness," Sam suggested with an innocent look.

Frodo slumped to the ground, moaning.  "Just kill me now, Faramir.  I'm sorry I won't be able to come to your wedding.  Tell Aragorn I know he'll make a great king."  He gasped.  "Tell….. tell Gandalf…….."  He rolled over on his back, pretended to breathe his last, then lay still.

Faramir stuck his booted foot out, nudging Frodo a bit.

"A shame," he said, shaking his head.  "So young, so full of promise."

"So lacking in a title," said Merry.

"A hero's burial!" cried Pippin, kneeling to fold Frodo's hands on his breast.  "We must honor our fallen comrade!"

"Whatever is going on here?"

The hobbits looked up to see Legolas and Gimli standing just within the gate, staring down at Frodo.

"He's succumbed at last, Legolas," said Merry solemnly.  "Too many banquets."

"Has he?"  Legolas smiled and squatted down next to Pippin.  "That seems an unlikely cause of death for any hobbit."  He ran his finger lightly across Frodo's middle, eliciting a convulsive giggle from the dead hero.

"Still a bit of life left in him yet," said Gimli gruffly.  "Perhaps tonight's dinner will be the one to do him in."

"Perhaps it will kindly do them *all* in, my good Dwarf," said Faramir with a grin.  He stood up and brushed himself off.  "I must see to my duties.  As must you, Peregrin."

Pippin sighed and followed Faramir back towards the City.

Frodo opened one eye and looked up at Merry.  "Well?"

"That was brilliant, Frodo," said Merry, helping him up.  "At least he forgot to pine away for her for a few minutes, anyhow."

"We should think of something else," said Sam.  "Something really distracting."

Legolas rose to his feet.  "As usual," he said to Gimli, "I have no idea what they're talking about."

Gimli's eyes twinkled.  "I suspect that hobbits have their own language, as we do, my friend.  Perhaps it would be unwise to delve too deeply into it."

"Perhaps."

Frodo was eyeing Sam.  "Why are you looking at me like that, Sam?"

"I *like* Brave Baggins, sir.  I think it sounds----"

"…….as good as Gamgee the Great?"

Sam paled visibly.  "Mr. Frodo, you wouldn't!"


	5. Good Penmanship

Tathar:   Is my amazing "reunion" Muse actually apologizing for giving me ideas??  I crave, value, and am grateful for every single one, please don't ever ever stop!

San Antonio Rose:   I'm SO gratified that my little tale cheered up your rainy day!

DISCLAIMER:  Of course.  The characters don't belong to me, I just get to think about them day and night.

_________________________

REUNION IN MINAS TIRITH

Chapter 5 --- Good Penmanship

It was a lovely afternoon, and it occurred to Faramir that he hadn't seen a single hobbit all day.  Since for weeks now he seemed to practically trip over at least one of them every few hours, he began to wonder if something was amiss.  After a brief search (including the dining halls), he came across the King and Gandalf speaking in a corridor.

"My liege, Mithrandir," he said, bowing.  "I am sorry to disturb you, but I wondered if you knew anything of the whereabouts of the Pheriannath.  Are they still in the City?"

"As a matter of fact, they just returned," said Aragorn.  "They've been out riding.  I wanted them to start getting used to the ponies they'll be riding back home."

"Home?"  Faramir looked so dismayed that Aragorn smiled and clapped him on the shoulder.

"I know we will miss them, Faramir, but they have to go home sometime!"  He chuckled.  "Don't worry, my friend.  They're not leaving *today*."

"That's fine, of course," Faramir tried to be nonchalant.  "I mean, of course they have to go home sometime."

"I believe they were on their way to the library near our house, Faramir," said Gandalf.  "When I saw them, Pippin was looking pleased and pushing Frodo in front of them, and Frodo had an air of someone going to an execution.  I'm sure they would enjoy your company."

"Thank you.  If I find the time, I may look in on them and bid them good day."  Faramir bowed and left.

Aragorn and Gandalf looked at each other, and when Faramir was well away they burst out laughing.

"When things are more settled, I may have to invent a mission for Faramir," said Aragorn, "something quite urgent that will take him through the Shire."

Gandalf nodded.  "He has grown quite fond of all of them."

The King grinned.  "Who has not?"

A number of small duties did keep Faramir occupied for another hour, after which he found an excuse to visit the room in the upper level that the hobbits called their "library".  It was well-stocked with books and scrolls, and in addition to the regular furniture, the King had ordered hobbit-sized chairs and tables built and installed there.  As he neared the entrance, Faramir could hear Frodo moaning.

"Pippin, there cannot be anymore.  There simply cannot."

Faramir looked inside to see Frodo sitting at one of the tables, a parchment in front of him and a quill in his right hand.  Pippin was sitting on one side of him, and Sam and Merry were on the other.  Everyone except for Frodo looked as if they were enjoying themselves.

Frodo looked up in relief.  "Faramir, thank goodness.  Get me out of here.  Assign Pippin kitchen duty.  Do something!"

Faramir came into the room and saw that the parchment was nearly full of writing.  "From what do you need rescue, Frodo?"

Frodo sighed.  "My esteemed cousin, the one with way too much time on his hands, I might add, has decided that my handwriting is still dreadful."  He looked down at the parchment.  "Which it is, but it's difficult to learn to write with four fingers when one is used to five.  However, that's beside the point."

"What *is* the point?"

"He said it would be good writing practice if we listed all the things we've done that no hobbits have done before, and if I wrote them down.  Well and good, I thought, since it may assist my uncle when he writes his book about all this.  Except that this list is apparently infinite, and my hand already ached from holding the reins for so long, and these slave-driving hobbits won't let me stop."

Faramir bent over Frodo to read what was on the parchment.  "Your handwriting isn't *that* dreadful.  Hmmm……  swallowed by a tree……  escaped Barrow wights……  climbed Caradhras……  visited Moria……"

"Visited," grumbled Sam.  "That's hardly the word for it."

Faramir's eyes skipped down the page.  "……  met the Lady of the Golden Wood……  met Ents…… rode on an eagle's back……"

"Which I don't even remember, by the way," Frodo sighed again.

Faramir realized that Frodo was right; the entries went on and on.  Gandalf entered the room and sat down, smiling at them all.  He motioned for them to continue.

"Eaten at a king's table," announced Merry.  "Add that, I'm sure no hobbit has ever done that."

"Bilbo might have," said Frodo thoughtfully, "in Mirkwood, but I can't recall."  He straightened up.  "And Bilbo might have to finish this list.  I cannot write another word."

"Bilbo's writing is even worse than yours is now, Frodo," said Merry.  "But after all, he is 128.  Or thereabouts.  If you practice more, you'll be able to write just as you did before."

"Your uncle is 128?"  Faramir was startled.  For the first time since he had known these four, he wondered how old they were.  "How long do your folk live?"

"That's pretty old," said Pippin.  "Not many hobbits live that long.  Bagginses are kind of exceptional, though.  Frodo might be doddering about the Shire for a long, long time yet."

"No I won't," groaned Frodo.

"Why not?"

"Because you're going to be the death of me, Peregrin Took."

Faramir grinned and pointed at the parchment.  "You need to add visiting Gondor, living in a house with a wizard, meeting northern *and* southern Rangers----"

"Oliphaunts!" exclaimed Sam triumphantly.  "I knew there was an important one we forgot."

Frodo, meanwhile, was busy scrawling something at the bottom of the page, in Elvish.  Gandalf leaned over and read it, his eyebrows quirking up.

"You can't call Pippin that, Frodo," he said in amusement.  "He is your cousin, after all."

"What did he write?"  Pippin grabbed the parchment and tried to make out the words.  "What does it say, Gandalf?"

"Just a small endearment between cousins," said Frodo, looking pleased with himself.  "Love and respects and all that."

"Hmmph."  Pippin got to his feet.  "I'm going to ask Strider what this says."

Frodo watched him leave.  "He took the parchment with him.  I can't write anymore, what a shame."

Gandalf smiled and leaned back.  "You might want to make yourself scarce for awhile, Frodo.  There's always a chance the King may translate that literally for him."

"He wouldn't do that."  Frodo looked up suddenly.  "Would he?"

"I understand you have ponies," suggested Faramir helpfully.  "Perhaps you could introduce me to them?"

Frodo leaped up and grabbed Faramir's hand.  "Yes, what a splendid idea, Faramir.  Come on, you should hurry and meet them before----"

"Before Pippin gets back," suggested Gandalf.


	6. Give My Regards to Rivendell

I'm petrified to post this chapter, because I don't know where to go from here! Maybe someone will have an idea....  
  
  
  
DISCLAIMER: Of course. The characters don't belong to me, I just get to think about them day and night.  
  
_________________________  
  
REUNION IN MINAS TIRITH  
  
Chapter 6 --- Give My Regards To Rivendell  
  
  
  
Frodo had once heard a quaint phrase from Boromir, "Waiting for the other shoe to drop." It had taken the Man a full minute of blank blue-eyed stare to realize that an adage about shoes meant nothing to a hobbit, and he had finally explained what he was talking about. Now Frodo found himself not just waiting for shoes, but indeed everything to start dropping. Directly on him. He waited and waited, but day after day Pippin was sweet and kind to him. Far too sweet and kind; sweeter and kinder than Frodo had ever remembered. Death surely loomed.  
  
Merry had informed Frodo that nearly being devoured by Gollum was no match for what dire act Pippin might come up with, and that he certainly deserved a nice vacation after all he had done, and now might be a good time to plan one. Sam had even begun to detail elaborate plans for a trip back to Mordor to retrieve his lost cooking gear.  
  
"Surely he won't follow us there, sir," he chuckled, as he and Frodo walked through one of the corridors.  
  
"Wouldn't he?" muttered Frodo. "Good heavens, Sam, it was just a joke. He wouldn't contemplate revenge on his frail, wounded, elderly cousin, would he?"  
  
"Since you insist on looking like a tweenager newly restored to the bloom of health, he just might," said Sam. "But personally, I think this *is* his revenge. You're so edgy, one would think Gollum was about."  
  
"Frodo!"  
  
Frodo froze at the sound of Pippin's cheerful voice behind him. He turned slowly, carefully.  
  
"Hi, Pip."  
  
"Frodo, I just found out they're having those honey cakes you love so much at luncheon today. Isn't that great?"  
  
"It sure is, Pip. Thanks so much for telling me."  
  
Pippin grabbed Frodo in a big hug, grinned at him, and ran off.  
  
"I'm dead," moaned Frodo, sagging against the wall. "He probably poisoned them. When you get back to Rivendell, would you tell Bilbo I really wanted to see him again? Don't tell him I sold Bag End, though, I seem to have neglected to tell him about that when we were there." He looked down the corridor. "Where was he off to in such a hurry, anyway?"  
  
"Sword practice, I think," said Sam. "With Captain Faramir."  
  
"Swords," sighed Frodo. "I'd rather not have another one pointed at me, ever."  
  
"Don't worry, sir," said Sam. "If Mr. Pippin does something dreadful to you, I'd be obligated to do something dreadful to him. Of course, then the King will probably lock me up in that dungeon we forced Captain Faramir to start thinking about. I'm sure it's a crime of some sort to assault a Knight of Gondor, or whatever Mr. Pippin is." They started to walk off. "I'm sure Mr. Merry will give your regards to everyone in Rivendell for you."  
  
"All right, good," mumbled Frodo, no longer listening. "That's good, let's do that."  
  
  
  
"Peregrin, what have you done to Frodo?"  
  
Pippin looked up, startled. Faramir took the opportunity to expertly disarm Pippin and back the astonished hobbit up against the wall at swordpoint. Pippin gulped, looking down at the sword pointed at his heart, then back up again.  
  
"You let your guard drop, Peregrin. You're a better swordsman.... er, hobbit than that!" Faramir chuckled and lowered his sword, to Pippin's relief. "Now then. What have you done to Frodo?"  
  
"Faramir, I have no idea what you're talking about!"  
  
"Indeed?" Faramir sheathed his sword and Pippin picked his up off the floor. They walked over to a nearby bench and sat down.  
  
"I overheard that Frodo believes you might be a bit.... put out... by something or other he wrote about you."  
  
"Something he..." Pippin looked confused for a moment. "You mean that Elvish phrase? Strider said it had so many meanings he couldn't begin to translate it for me, but that nobody would have taught Frodo the bad ones. He said it was very sweet of him to have...." Pippin abruptly stood up, looking shocked. "Frodo thinks I'm mad at him?" He hurriedly sheathed his sword and turned to go.  
  
"Where are you going?"  
  
Pippin turned around. "I need to see Frodo right away. I couldn't bear it if he was mad at me, Faramir. Especially over a silly misunderstanding!"  
  
Pippin looked so sincere and distressed that Faramir was sorry he had brought the subject up. But Frodo *had* been acting a bit skittish for a few days. "Perhaps someone *else* should explain this misunderstanding to Frodo. He might be a bit nervous about----"  
  
"Faramir," Pippin burst out laughing. "The only times I ever saw my cousin 'nervous' were when he was screwing himself up to dash off alone into peril and spare his friends the danger. I don't know where you heard all this nonsense, but you have a lot yet to learn about hobbits!" Still chuckling, he dashed off.  
  
Faramir watched him go. Peregrin was no doubt correct; not even Mithrandir claimed to know everything about hobbits. Still, something about all this was making him vaguely uneasy.  
  
Out of Faramir's sight, Pippin strode calmly along the corridor wearing a satisifed smile. Luncheon would be nice just about now, and he deserved an extra honey cake or two for such a superb performance. He shook his head in amazement; Frodo was already nervous as a cat and he hadn't had to do a thing. Pippin loved his cousin and would lay down his life for him a dozen times over; but Frodo Baggins was going to rue the day he had ever learned Elvish.  
  
** TBC ** 


	7. Back to Normal

Gosh darn it, this string of vignettes is turning into a story after all. Not that I have any idea what happens next, of course!  
  
DISCLAIMER: Of course. The characters don't belong to me, I just get to think about them day and night.  
  
_________________________  
  
REUNION IN MINAS TIRITH  
  
Chapter 7 --- Back to Normal  
  
  
  
".... can't take much more of this, Faramir."  
  
"Frodo---"  
  
"It's Pippin, don't you understand?"  
  
Hearing his name, Pippin skidded to a soundless halt just outside the door of their library. What was this?  
  
"But Frodo, you have to admit that what you wrote was a bit, well... uncomplimentary."  
  
"But I didn't *know* that, now, did I?"  
  
Pippin could hear someone pacing about the room.  
  
"It wasn't until Legolas asked me --- with an odd smile on his face, by the way--- where I learned such words, that I understood what Pippin was angry about. Faramir, do you know how many ways that phrase can be translated? And Legolas said *he* was the one who told Pippin what it meant!"  
  
Pippin listened, open-mouthed, at what he was hearing. It *had* been Legolas who had translated the phrase for him, after Strider had been so evasive about it.  
  
"And *then*!" Pippin could tell Frodo was getting agitated. "And then every time I try to talk to Pip he just grins at me and gives me a hug and changes the conversation to food. Or something. Well, usually food. I can't bear this tension between us, not with Pippin. I'm so proud of him, he's been... been so..." There was a plunk, as if someone had plopped into a chair. "I'm sorry, Faramir, I don't think I'm feeling very well."  
  
"What is it?" Faramir's voice sounded very concerned.  
  
"It's really nothing. This morning Merry wanted to see the place where he and Éowyn vanquished the Lord of the Nazgûl ..... where Theoden died. I went with him. It's a dreadful place, Faramir, all blackened and withered. I couldn't let Merry go there alone." Frodo's voice grew fainter and Pippin had to strain to hear him. "On the way back to the City I started to feel very cold and... Nevermind, I don't want to talk about it anymore. The memories are still too---"  
  
"I understand," said Faramir. "May I escort you back to your room?"  
  
"Would you?" Frodo sighed. "I think I need to sleep for awhile."  
  
"Of course."  
  
Dumbfounded, Pippin started to back up so quickly he tripped and fell. Frodo and Faramir came out of the library and saw him.  
  
"Pip!" Frodo kneeled down, startled.  
  
Pippin stared into his cousin's face. Frodo looked pale and tired.  
  
"Pip, are you all right?"  
  
"Am I all right?" Pippin gasped. "Am *I* all right?"  
  
Frodo turned to Faramir. "I'll make it to my room all right, Faramir. Why don't you see if Pippin needs anything?" He turned back to his cousin and tousled his hair fondly. "Silly Pip. Just watch where you're going next time, yes?"  
  
Frodo got to his feet, a bit unsteadily, and walked away slowly.  
  
Faramir knelt down. "Peregrin, are you hurt?"  
  
Pippin wordlessly shook his head.  
  
"Good, I am glad." Faramir helped Pippin to his feet. "I need to see the King about Frodo. I do not think he is well." Faramir's expression turned grim. "I should have seen to the clearing of that evil ground," he murmured to himself. "That wraith almost killed them both, who can say what dark memories, what nightmares they may be... and I well know what it is like to have been touched by the Black Breath." He sighed. "I don't think he's been eating too well recently, either."  
  
'Oh, Faramir," gasped Pippin. "That's because he was nervous about what I... what I might....."  
  
"What's that?" Faramir smiled absently at Pippin. "There now, you're all right. Just keep your feet under you next time!" He patted the hobbit on the shoulder and strode away.  
  
  
  
Faramir caught up with Frodo just outside the hobbit's room, and took his arm.  
  
"Frodo, how did you know Peregrin would be outside the library at just that moment?"  
  
Frodo grinned at him. "Sam told him I was there, and that it might be a good time to talk. I knew Pippin couldn't resist another chance to show me how sweet and innocent he was. You may not be able to hear a hobbit approaching, Faramir, but I can. Pippin's only quiet when he wants to be." Frodo chuckled quietly. "He couldn't resist listening in; he is a Took, after all."  
  
Faramir got the feeling that Frodo felt that this explained everything. "I don't like being involved in family disputes, my friend," he said, "but at least we have seen an end to it now. Even though you *did* start it, Frodo."  
  
"Actually, it was Pippin who---"  
  
"Never mind. By the way, how did you know Peregrin *wasn't* "sweet and innocent'? He really had me fooled."  
  
"How did....." Frodo was as astonished as if the Man had asked him how he knew the sky was blue. "How did you know that Éowyn loved you, Faramir? I mean, that she wasn't just saying she did?"  
  
Faramir stared at Frodo, shocked. "Why, I could see it! There in her eyes. It was like..." His voice trailed off and he got a dreamy look on his face.  
  
"Exactly," said Frodo. "It's all in the eyes. People think *my* eyes reveal everything, if they only knew! I can't even come close when it comes to Pippin."  
  
"I see." Faramir was about to leave, but he frowned and looked at Frodo closely. "That story about visiting the site of the wraith's destruction -- - and feeling ill afterwards --- that wasn't just part of the act, was it? That was true?"  
  
"Yes," said Frodo. "Why?"  
  
"Because you do look tired. Perhaps you *should* rest for awhile."  
  
"I think I will." Frodo looked down the empty corridor. "Well, at least everything's back to normal. Now that Pip overheard that I didn't mean to insult him, at least not much, and that I'm proud of him, which I am, we'll have an end to the teasing and plotting and being constantly followed. I really could use a couple of nice, peaceful days after all this."  
  
  
  
Meanwhile Pippin leaned against the wall, nearly sliding back down to the floor in his distress.  
  
What have I done? he thought wildly. Frodo risked everything for us. Everything! He's still haunted by memories and wounds, and I'm badgering him about something he didn't even know he did! He looked up the corridor in the direction Frodo had gone, a determined look on his face. "No more of this," he said out loud. "Whatever he needs, day or night, I'll be there for him. Every single second."  
  
** TBC ** 


	8. Nothing To Worry About

(It probably wouldn't hurt to re-read Chapter 4 before reading Chapter 8. And maybe chapters 5 - 7 as well. This story is making me dizzy...)  
  
DISCLAIMER: Of course. The characters don't belong to me, I just get to think about them day and night.  
  
_________________________  
  
REUNION IN MINAS TIRITH  
  
Chapter 8 --- Nothing To Worry About  
  
  
  
"I've been trying to decide something, Mer."  
  
"What's that?"  
  
"Whether it's worse to lose the Ring, lose my finger, or lose my mind."  
  
Merry rolled over in the grass and observed Frodo with a sigh. "And what have you decided?"  
  
"Still thinking about it."  
  
Frodo sighed in contentment as the warm breeze ruffled his hair. Away from the City, under these trees, it was so nice. So nice and quiet.  
  
"Let's see," Frodo mused. "Losing the Ring was awful. Losing a finger was pretty awful too. But losing my mind... well, maybe that won't be so bad. I mean, I probably won't be aware of it much, don't you think?"  
  
"Why don't you just *tell* Pip to leave you alone?"  
  
"I did, Mer. I said, 'Pip, you're driving me crazy. Please go away and leave me alone.' Honest, I really did."  
  
"And?"  
  
Frodo lay back in the soft grass. "You know, I've lived in the Shire for 50 years, and I never knew that there were so many different languages there. Apparently, when someone from Hobbiton says 'Go away and leave me alone,' someone from Tuckburrow interprets that as a need to get you a sandwich and sit with you while you eat it." He waved a foot lazily in the air. "Truly amazing. Bilbo never taught me anything about that."  
  
Merry stood up and stretched. "It's time I had a word with him. Don't worry, Frodo, he won't bother you anymore."  
  
Frodo closed his eyes and yawned, half asleep. "We'll be traveling home for months," he murmured. "I'll have killed Pippin by the time we get halfway to Rivendell, I suppose, or maybe I'll ask Sam to do it, but the Thain doesn't *have* to be a male, does it? Can't one of Pippin's sisters run things rather well when Uncle Paladin isn't around to do it?"  
  
"Frodo---"  
  
"Or you can be Thain, maybe. Why can't the Master of Buckland just... run everything..." Frodo drifted into sleep.  
  
Merry shook his head and walked over to Sam, who was sitting under a tree a few feet away.  
  
"Samwise Gamgee, if Pippin so much as pops his head outside that Gate, run him through."  
  
"I'm not armed, Mr. Merry."  
  
"Then call out the Guards. He's not to get anywhere near Frodo."  
  
"He won't." Sam was having a hard time not laughing, even though this was his poor master they were talking about.  
  
"It's not funny, Sam."  
  
"It's *kind* of funny, Mr. Merry. I mean, Mr. Frodo thought everything was finished hunting him. And now he's being stalked by his own tweenaged cousin, and defending himself against sandwiches and all sorts of evil things."  
  
"Yes, but it's not..." Merry suddenly snorted and turned away, starting to grin. It *was* kind of funny, at that.  
  
"And not just sandwiches," Sam continued. "Just yesterday it was a whole tray of fresh fruit. It's a good thing we got so much practice fighting off wraiths and spiders and such, I say."  
  
Merry abruptly fell to his knees and buried his head in Sam's blanket, trying frantically to stifle hysterical laughter. He finally staggered to his feet and made a run for it before Frodo heard him.  
  
Sam chuckled quietly to himself. "Don't you worry, Mr. Frodo," he said to his sleeping friend. "We'll protect you. None 'o those cakes or sweet breads will get you, not while Samwise Gamgee is at your side."  
  
  
  
"Does this whole thing make any sense to either of you?"  
  
"There's nothing complicated about it at all, Faramir. Not if you've traveled as far with hobbits as we have. Isn't that right, Legolas?"  
  
"It is a *bit* complicated, Gimli."  
  
"Nonsense." Gimli took a long drink of ale and set down the mug, looking pleased with himself. "You and I both saw Master Baggins expire just outside the Gate, and Meriadoc said something about Faramir forgetting to pine away for a few minutes. Then Samwise mentioned that they needed to think of something really distracting."  
  
From across the table, Faramir stared at the Dwarf in utter disbelief.  
  
"So you see," finished Gimli with a flourish, "Master Baggins was never actually nervous around Peregrin, and Peregrin is not actually stalking Master Baggins. The whole thing is a ruse to keep you distracted, Faramir!"  
  
"Gimli," said Legolas slowly. "Frodo is hardly one to participate in such an activity."  
  
"And besides," said Faramir, regaining the power of speech, "Frodo has not been well. He *has* been very nervous and tired, quite pale and..."  
  
"Hah!" Gimli picked up a leg of mutton and waved it about. "That is the palest hobbit who ever lived, Faramir. When you've seen as many as we have- --"  
  
"Son of Gloín, we have met precisely five hobbits," said Legolas in exasperation. "That is not exactly---"  
  
Faramir stood up. "I will have to think about all this," he said. "However.." He started to chuckle. "I certainly *have* been distracted, worrying about our comrades and how to help them with their little family dispute." He shook his head. "Very clever. And the sign of true friends, indeed."  
  
Legolas looked unhappy. "I am still not certain about all of this."  
  
"I am," said Gimli. "And when has a Dwarf ever been wrong about anything?"  
  
Faramir leaped to Legolas's side as the Elf started to choke on his ale.  
  
"Breathe, Legolas. Deep breaths. Gimli, get over here and help him!"  
  
** TBC ** 


	9. Turnabout

Finished! This is without a doubt the strangest, dizziest, most convoluted and surreal tale I've ever written. I'll have to try this again sometime, once they let me out of these restraints.  
  
Baylor: You don't think there are enough Merry/Sam interactions? I hope you enjoy the end of this chapter, my friend.  
  
Firiel: I agree, more than a little "modern language" crept into this story, and I didn't do much to stop it. I'm so careful and precise about what I write in most of my stories, but I consider this tale a break from all the angst; a chance to just kick back and enjoy.  
  
Marion: I love your assessment of the hobbits, "scarred by experience but NOT defeated by it!" You betcha.  
  
Nilmandra: This story is just a relaxed and light one, in which an elf might just be discovered drinking ale. (BTW, is it written somewhere that they *wouldn't* drink ale?)  
  
  
  
DISCLAIMER: Of course. The characters don't belong to me, I just get to think about them day and night.  
  
_________________________  
  
REUNION IN MINAS TIRITH  
  
Chapter 9 --- Turnabout  
  
  
  
The four hobbits looked from the long table, to each other, and back to the table again, dumbfounded. When Faramir had invited them to dinner, they had expected.. well.. dinner. Not the incredible feast laid out before them.  
  
"Faramir," murmured Frodo. "This is wonderful."  
  
Faramir was warmed by the hobbits' reactions, and laughed as his four small friends eagerly raced to the low chairs he had had brought into his room from their library. All four bowed to their host, then stood respectfully as Faramir faced West for a moment of silence.  
  
As they all sat, and the hobbits more or less started inhaling the food, Faramir chuckled to himself to see that Frodo and Pippin were sitting as far apart from each other as possible. He stood and offered a toast.  
  
"My friends," Faramir said, smiling at each hobbit in turn, "I wanted to thank you. Gimli explained to me your true motivations, and I have to say that I have never known such a devoted friendship and warm regard as you four have shown me."  
  
Frodo paused with a roll halfway to his mouth. "Gimli?" He looked at Sam, puzzled. Since Sam looked as confused as he felt, Frodo stole a glance at Merry, then at Pippin. Everyone was looking confused.  
  
"Faramir," Pippin ventured. "I'm not entirely sure---"  
  
"Peregrin," Faramir smiled at him. "You can be entirely sure that all the play-acting was quite effective. The four of you wanted to give me a distraction from missing Éowyn so much, and believe me, your pretense of a feud was *most* distracting."  
  
"Our..." Frodo was even more confused than before. "Our pretense of a feud?"  
  
"Indeed!" Faramir sat down, chuckling. "Most inspired! So intricately planned! Imagine anyone believing that Frodo could be frightened by Peregrin, and that Peregrin could possibly undertake to 'stalk' his dear cousin. And yet, I believed it all! Well done, my friends, and thank you."  
  
Pippin was about to say something else, when Merry kicked him under the table.  
  
"You're right, Captain Faramir," declared Sam suddenly. Whatever in the world was going on, he wasn't going to let this opportunity slip away. Things had gone on as long as he could stand it. "Why, you've never seen closer cousins than these three right here. A real feud between any of 'em? Impossible!"  
  
"You said it, Sam," said Merry. He winked at Sam and clapped Pippin on the shoulder. Enough was enough. "And such acting! Why, sometimes I nearly believed it myself!"  
  
"Frodo, Pippin, are you both well?" Faramir looked from one to the other. "Here, have some wine." He filled goblets for all the hobbits, and Frodo lunged at his desperately. Pippin drank his so fast he started to choke.  
  
"This is wonderful wine, Faramir," said Merry appreciatively.  
  
"Aye," said Sam. "Is this the same as you had at the cave, sir?"  
  
"Indeed, Sam, the very same," said Faramir. "The vineyards south of the city are well known for..."  
  
Frodo surreptitiously stole a glance down the table at Pippin, to find that Pippin was doing the same to him. They both started grinning at each other at the same moment, then Frodo burst out laughing.  
  
"Faramir," Frodo interrupted, raising his goblet, "A toast to my dear cousin." He smiled at Pippin. "What a dull journey it would have been without you, Pip," he said softly.  
  
Pippin smiled and raised his own goblet. "And to you, Frodo. Why, the very thought of me ever deliberately causing you even a moment's distress..."  
  
Sam and Merry exchanged a look of relief, and Faramir just looked pleased.  
  
**************  
  
Later that evening, Faramir sought out Legolas where he was walking in one of the gardens.  
  
"How was dinner?" asked Legolas with a smile. "I take it everything went as planned?"  
  
"A brilliant idea," said Faramir, shaking the Elf's hand. "I do believe we have seen the last of any stalking, hiding, feuding, or distress among our small friends."  
  
"I am most relieved," said Legolas. "My respect for Gimli is second to none, Faramir, but I knew this had to be more than play acting. Hobbits are quite tenacious. Once Pippin gets an idea into his head---"  
  
"I owe him my life, Legolas," Faramir said, "Besides, Peregrin is still a youngster in their years, and scarcely to blame. I understand Frodo really did write something quite uncomplimentary about him."  
  
"It *was* rather unsavory," Legolas agreed. "However, I, for one, would not wish to be on the receiving end of any mischief on the part of Peregrin Took."  
  
"Then perhaps you should not have interpreted the message for him."  
  
"Are you implying that I am to blame for this entire incident?"  
  
"Not entirely, perhaps, but surely you must assume some of the---"  
  
Sam and Merry, walking off the dinner some distance away, had stopped behind a tree to listen.  
  
"Are *they* fighting now?" Sam was incredulous.  
  
"Seems so," whispered Merry. He grinned. "Maybe we could think of something to distract them, Sam. I mean, they'd never suspect it from you and me, would they?"  
  
"No."  
  
"Great! Actually, I have an idea about---"  
  
"No, Mr. Merry. No!"  
  
"But---"  
  
"No means 'no'!"  
  
Merry sighed. "It would have been fun."  
  
Sam looked sideways at him. "We could have pulled it off."  
  
Merry looked excited. "Let me just tell you about what I---"  
  
"No."  
  
"Frodo would finally get that title Pippin was going on about," Merry murmured, as if to himself.  
  
Sam looked up. "Would he?"  
  
"Don't you think he deserves one?"  
  
"Of course, but---"  
  
"Then listen to this, Sam. We could---"  
  
Sam started backing away in a panic. "Please stop talking, Mr. Merry."  
  
"Never mind." Merry sighed. "Come on, let's go back to the house."  
  
Legolas looked around, frowning. "Did you hear voices?"  
  
"No." Faramir held out his hand again. "Why are we quarreling, Legolas? There has been enough strife in this city."  
  
"Agreed." Legolas took the Man's hand and smiled. "We will all miss the hobbits when they have returned home; however, by then, you will have your Lady at your side. I suspect you will then have as much 'distraction' as you can handle."  
  
Faramir grinned, thinking of Éowyn. "I suspect you are right. A good night to you, Legolas."  
  
"Good night, my friend."  
  
  
  
** END ** 


End file.
